The Circus Bear
I hate the spectacle that makes a man of beast.
How can money make such a beast of man!
A bear in a tutu dancing for youyou,
balancing on a ball, riding a bicycle for a biscuit,
and [I imagine] bearing the whip, caged
by drunken clowns with their pants down,
and a man in a top hat twiddling his mustache
belongs in the woods.
It’s the twenty-first century: clowns are sad and the top hat is out.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
